


Save me from Hell

by KataleesaSkywalker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Blasphemy, Brotherly Bonding, Canonical Character Death, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Dark Castiel, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Demon Castiel, Demon Sex, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Minor Ruby/Sam Winchester, Non-Hunter Winchesters, Openly Bisexual Dean, Parents Castiel & Dean Winchester, Past Castiel/Meg Masters, Priest Dean, Priest Kink, Redemption, Sheriff Sam, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, True Love, Witch Ruby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7791166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KataleesaSkywalker/pseuds/KataleesaSkywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was the preacher at Winchester Parish in Purgatory, Kansas. It wasn't a job he wanted - hell, he didn't even believe in God - but when his father passed he had no choice but to take up the mantle and get into the family business. But life isn't all angels and rainbows, especially since he has a huge drinking problem and the only one he hates more than his father is himself. His brother Sam, the sheriff of their little town, tries his best to keep Dean out of trouble, but it isn't always easy. </p><p>When Dean meets Castiel, a mysterious stranger in a long black trench coat, he doesn't expect to feel so alive again. If only the man with the striking blue eyes wasn't so dangerous...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings will be posted at the beginning of each chapter.

It was August. 

The hot summer air was dry and sweltering. It was the kind of day where people sat naked in front of multiple fans in the hopes to cool down even a little bit. The kind of heat that puts people on edge, and causes tempers to flare in unpredictable ways. Kansas weather always brought out the worst in everyone, and the man in black was no exception.

The gravel crunched under his steel toed cowboy boots as he walked towards his waiting black Chevy Impala. Dust was beginning to collect on her hood and windows, something that the _old_ him would never have let happen before, but things were different now. That car was the one thing besides his brother and Charlie that he could always count on. He certainly couldn't count on his father - the very thought was laughable. 

The funeral for Reverend John Winchester had been held last Thursday. Everyone in town had been in attendance, crying where it counted and pretending like they actually gave a fuck that he was dead. John was just their ticket into Heaven, after all, nothing more. Be good little sheep and follow the bible, and you would be saved and live in eternity with the angels and all your relatives! Now they were going to show up on Sunday to see if the man's oldest son could give those faithful worshippers the same promises and guarantees. As if _any_ of them were truly as good and pure as they claimed to be. As if any of them deserves fluffy white wings and golden harps. 

Balthazar, for example, was a huge man whore who fucked everyone's wife. Everyone knew it, but no one talked about it. Out of sight, out of mind. Ruby practiced witchcraft in her basement, concocting strange potions that she sold through her online magic shop. Yet every Sunday there she was, sitting in the third row and clutching that bible as if it made a damn difference. Marv, a creepy little reporter from the newspaper, had an addiction to porn and probably had enough DNA on his hands to father an entire town. The man couldn't complain, though. He was no better than any of them.

The man sighed, using the sleeve of his black suit jacket to wipe away some of the dust from the windshield. Inside, he could see various empty cans of beer littered around the seats and the floorboards, along with empty burger wrappers and soda cups. He briefly wondered when his life had become such a mess. Was it when his father died? Before that? Maybe it was even when he was born, since that's when all the trouble started. He turned and leaned back against the Impala, staring across the road at the church he had grown up in. The white paint was chipped and faded, exposing the old wood beneath it. The words 'Winchester's Parish' were barely visible anymore, a ghost of what they once were. The whole place had once been beautiful, a safe haven where he and his brother Sammy would run and play hide and go seek while their mother baked cookies for the weekly church bake sales. Now it was just a reminder of the Hell they had both faced after she died. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, glancing at the display before pressing accept. "Sammy," he answered, running a sweaty hand through his hair. 

"Dean." His brother's voice seemed a bit tense, much more than usual anyway. Being the Sheriff tended to do that to you. This town was full of crazy, and Sam was always having to chase after it. 

"What's up?"

"Are you still coming to dinner tonight?"

Oh, right. Dinner with his brother and his brother's new girlfriend, whoever _she_ was. Sam was being vague and mysterious about it, which meant Dean wasn't going to like her at all. "Yeah, sure." He was less than enthused about it in the first place. He just wanted to curl up naked in front of his brand new air conditioner and binge watch Netflix. 

There was a long pause, then Sam cleared his throat. "Please uh... try to be sober, okay?"

Dean rolled his eyes, even though his brother couldn't see it. It wasn't the first time they had the discussion, and it sure as fuck wouldn't be the last. "Yeah, Sammy. See you later." He hung up the phone, shoving it into his pocket and turning to open the car door. Sam was always on his case about his drinking problem, even though it wasn't actually a problem at all. He could stop when he wanted. He just enjoyed a nice cold beer at the end of the day. What the hell was wrong with that? He slid into the car, wincing as he felt the heat seep through his slacks from the black bucket seats. Sure, it _looked_ stylish, but when the sun was trying to cook your ass like a Thanksgiving turkey, it kind of lost all it's charm. 

He revved the engine, quickly rolling down the windows to let the stifling hot air escape. His mind wandered to his brother, and who his mystery woman could possibly be. He had seen Sam talking to Jessica Moore a couple weeks back at the diner - was that who it was? Jessica was one of the few people in the town who wasn't a complete heathen, so he couldn't understand why Sam would want to hide her away like that. He pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, nearly hitting Marv the Pervert in the process as he drove by in his beat up Chevy Malibu. The reporter shouted at him and flipped him the finger - until he realized who it was and looked like God Himself had leaned out of the clouds to bitch slap him. As he stepped on the gas to head for home, he heard a muffled, "Oh my God, I'm sorry!" in the distance. 

Yeah, that asshole _would_ be sorry. If God actually did exist, and Dean highly doubted it, then Marv was gonna have a bad time when he finally kicked it. Then again, so was most of this shithole town. 

 

xoxo

 

Dinner was awkward, as it usually was.

It didn't used to be that way, though. Once upon a time the Winchester brothers were inseparable, the best of friends, thick as thieves. It all changed when their mother Mary died. John became an angry drunk, throwing punches at anything and anyone who came near. It was usually Dean who was the unlucky target, since he purposely put himself in harms way so that Sam didn't get hurt. The youngest Winchester would hide away in his closet, covering his ears and trying desperately to drown out the sounds of his father shouting and his brother crying. It never worked. Even to this day, Sam woke up sweating and crying out after having yet another nightmare about his brother screaming and calling his name. It wasn't something Sam ever thought he would get over.

The alcoholism came naturally, he supposed. John drinking and beating Dean caused Dean to drink to escape the pain. For years, Sam had wanted that same luxury, to be able to slip into his own mind and forget about everything that was happening around him. In the end, he became a cop because even though his brother and father couldn't fight their demons, then maybe he could help fight someone else's. And then he got to know Ruby. 

Ruby was the kind of girl who was trouble, and everyone knew it, yet they associated with her anyway. With trouble came excitement and adventure, but eventually she lived up to the hype and made people regret the decision to even share the same air with her. Sam knew she was practicing witchcraft - it interested him, even. So one day he decided to visit her and learn more about it. He didn't know if magic existed, but when she gave him that potion to cure his depression, it worked. It made him feel like a renewed man. Like nothing in the world bothered him and no one _could_ bother him. It made him feel powerful and alive, and he craved that feeling more and more each day. One bottle led to two, two led to three, and three led to a date and a passionate night in the back of his police cruiser. He was hooked after that. On her, on the potion, on everything. He knew he had to tell Dean before other people spilled in confession or something. So here they were.

And Dean was _pissed._

He kept glaring at Ruby like she had just reached across the table and stabbed him with a butter knife. She, in turn, glared right back. It got to the point where Sam wondered if he should prepare for some kind of epic battle between Heaven and whatever forces powered witchcraft. The devil maybe, or Hell itself. 

He didn't think it would go so badly though. Surely now that Dean was the preacher of the town he would be more forgiving. Wasn't it literally in the job description? Save souls, don't fuck up, don't fuck them, and be forgiving. 

He sighed, wiping his mouth with the embroidered sunflower napkin his mother had made years ago. He had most of her things in the house, since Dean had his own little crappy apartment and wanted nothing to do with any of it. "So, how was your day, Dean?"

His brother's angry green eyes briefly slid over to him. "Seriously?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, man. I know you were trying to get a choir together today for this weekend, right?"

"No one showed." Dean snapped his napkin onto his half eaten plate. "Didn't I tell you they wouldn't?"

Ruby said nothing, continueing instead to pick through her mashed potatoes in silence. Sam almost envied her. 

"You just have to give them time," Sam replied, trying to sound encouraging. 

Dean hadn't wanted the job in the first place. Up until a couple weeks ago, Dean was a bartender in the only bar in town, The Roadhouse, slinging shots and fucking anything that moved, man or woman. Then John died and Dean had to don the black suit and the white priest collar, taking vows and throwing his life away. Sam tried to get him to walk away, to just give the church to someone else, but his brother was adamant. Memories of Mary were in that church, things they could never get back again. Maybe it was his way of trying to make her proud. It's what she would have wanted, and so he did it, no matter how miserable he already was.

"No one thinks I can do it," Dean said, taking a long swig of his water. "They think that just because i mixed drinks less than a month ago that I'm gonna fuck this up. I was at every single sermon Dad did. He made sure I knew every single passage in that fucking book." 

"I know, man."

"Yeah, well." Dean adjusted his collar, still not used to it being around his neck. "If no one shows this weekend then that's their problem, not mine."

"What are you gonna do if that happens?" Sam asked quietly. "Are you just gonna give up?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, this isn't important right now." He swept his hand towards Ruby. "Are we not going to discuss this?"

"I have a name," Ruby spat out.

"Enough." Sam put a hand to his head. "Look, Dean. I know she's not your favorite person, and she has a reputation -"

"A reputation." Dean laughed bitterly. "A _reputation_."

"I haven't done anything wrong," Ruby said, obviously trying to maintain some calm. 

"Witchcraft!" Dean answered, slamming a fist down on the table. "I friggin' hate witches!"

"You don't actually - believe in that stuff, do you Dean?" Sam asked slowly. He had only just begun to accept that things like magic were real, but he was surprised that Dean did, too. 

Dean stood up. "Just forget it, okay? This was a bad idea." He started to walk towards the door.

Sam jumped up as well. "Dean, wait!"

His brother shrugged him off. "I appreciate the invite, but dude, seriously? I thought you were with Jessica or something."

Sam felt a stab of guilt in his stomach at that. He had liked Jess, with her beautiful curly blond hair and a smile that could light up a room. They had dated a few times, and really hit it off. At one point, he even thought she was the one. But it was during those times that Ruby came into his life, offering promises of freedom and escape from the burdens that plagued him. The ghosts that haunted his past never really went away, no matter how much therapy he had with Dr. Lisa Braeden. Naturally, Jess found out when he was high off his ass, or whatever the potion did to him, and deep inside Ruby outside her apartment. She wouldn't even speak to him now, and by the way Dean was rushing out the door, his brother soon wouldn't be either. 

"Please just... don't drink until you get home," Sam said, knowing that alcohol was imminent in Dean's future. "Please promise me that much. I know you're angry with me, but..."

Dean was opening the door now. "Don't worry about me, Sammy. You need to worry about yourself. Something is off with you lately and I don't know what it is." He turned to glance back at him. "You used to go for sweet girls like Jess. Ruby isn't even your type. Does she give amazing head or something?"

"Dean!"

"It doesn't matter. Take care of yourself, little brother. I need to get some sleep." The screen door rattled on it's hinges after Dean went through it, leaving Sam to do nothing but stare into the darkness. 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The man in the long black trench coat sat at the end of the bar, nursing a shot of whiskey and half-watching the news on the T.V. it was always the same thing with humans. Murder, death, and hate. He often wondered how they had not managed to completely wipe each other out by now. 

He took a long swig, finally finishing the drink, the liquid only slightly burning his throat. Not much affected him, thanks to the fact he wasn't one of them, the tiny ants on two legs who spent lifetimes destroying themselves. He had been alive long enough to know they only got worse with time. 

The bell on the door jingled, announcing the entrance of someone else. He glanced up, seeing the familiar petite brunette walking towards him. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as their eyes met but he didn't return the sentiment. He sighed instead, resting his elbows on the counter as she approached.

"Meg," he said flatly. 

She looked disappointed at his apathetic welcome. "Mad at me again, Clarence?"

"I told you to stop calling me that." He raised a finger in the air, signalling the bartender for another drink. Benny, he thought the guy's name was. It didn't really matter. 

Meg slid into the stool next to him, shrugging off her red leather jacket and laying it on the bar. "This town is terrible. I'm not even human and I'm working up a sweat "

"You're wearing a jacket in the middle of summer. What did you expect?"

"Why are we here, Castiel?"

"No one asked you to come."

Meg looked saddened at that. "Where else would I go?" She always was more emotional than most.

Castiel huffed a laugh, raising the shot glass to his lips and taking a drink. "Well considering I am the only one who can even remotely tolerate you, your options are limited."

"Someone is feeling sassy today." Meg looked more amused than insulted now. 

"I feel 'sassy' everyday," he replied, complete with air quotes.

She just rolled her eyes. "Seriously, why are we here in Satan's asshole?"

"I've met Lucifer and I don't think he would appreciate that remark."

"Whatever. Just answer me."

Castiel wasn't ready to answer her question yet, especially after she was being so demanding, so he decided to ask one of his own instead. "How did you find me?"

"I followed the trail of bodies," she replied, the annoyance clear in her voice. 

He laughed at that, the sound echoing in the glass as he held it to his lips. "And here I thought I hid them so well."

She glared at him then, which only made him laugh harder. "You have to be careful, Clarence, or someone unpleasant is going to start paying attention."

He snapped his fingers and they were both suddenly outside behind the bar, one of his hands wrapped around her throat. "I told you to stop calling me that, _Meg!_  Don't tell me what I have to do. I never asked you to follow me, but you just keep doing it. Like some pathetic, lost, puppy dog. What kind of demon does that?"

She struggled in his grasp for a few moments before he finally relented and let her go. She straightened her blouse and rubbed her neck. "I'm trying to help you," she snapped, venom thick in her voice. "I am the one who cleans up after you. No one else! I keep hiding those bodies so _he_ won't find you!"

Castiel didn't like to be reminded of _him_. The one person in the world who he actually feared. He has managed to avoid him for a century now, but that could easily change if he kept being reckless. He leaned against the building and folded his arms over his chest. "Fine. Maybe you're right. I will try to show restraint in the future."

"Are you gonna tell me now or what?"

He shrugged. "Something just drew me to this place. I'm not sure what. Besides, I thought it would be a good place to lay low for awhile."

"Lay low?" She asked. "Did you piss someone off?"

"That's none of your business. If you want to remain here, go ahead. But stay the hell out of my way or I will rip your head off." His eyes flashed black as he spoke, further emphasizing his point. 

She put her hands up. "Okay, geez. Calm down, Clar - Castiel."

"Now, I think it's time I paid our local church a visit."

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dean hadn't been back to "The Roadhouse" since his father died. 

In some ways, he missed it. There was something purely _simple_ about going in there every day and serving up drinks to the locals and chatting everyone up. The only responsibility he had was making sure no one went thirsty. He'd bag a different dude or chick almost every night, so his bed would never be cold. Then he'd go back and do it again the next day, and the next. Life went on. Things were much different now.

The bar and grill was owned by a married couple named Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle - Singer. The two of them, along with their daughter Jo, had been like a second family to him and Sam. Whenever John was in one of his many drunken comas, Dean would grab his brother and drive over to the Singer household to have a decent homecooked meal and attempt to stay safe. Even before Dean could legally drive he was doing it, just to make sure that Sam never went without food or the love of kind, decent human beings. Even though the now-preacher had become jaded and bitter in later years, he never wanted that for Sam. 

He currently sat outside the bar, hands gripping the steering wheel and staring into the windows where he could see Ellen wiping off the tables. His mind was cluttered with memories of the night before and what an utter _disaster_ that had been, along with his desperate need to run inside and hug the older woman because he had missed her terribly. He still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Sam had wanted Ruby, of all people. He knew he couldn't really judge, though, since he had taken home some questionable characters in the past, too. But this was different. Sam wanted to be with her for longer than a night. He regretted getting so angry at his brother the way he had, but he was still pissed that not a single person had shown up for choir practice and so he had taken it out on Sam, something he rarely did. 

He had posted fliers around town and mailed reminders a week ago, just in case people thought that Winchester Parish was shutting down. As much as he wanted to bulldoze the whole fucking thing, he knew that he couldn't. His mom would want him to at least try to carry on the family name - even if John _had_ turned into a complete asshole at the end. The lack of response from anyone had really knocked the wind out of his sails, making him feel like a complete failure before he had even gotten started. Did they not believe in him? Sure, he was nothing but a sleazy bartender not too long ago, but he liked to think he was a good person. 

The heat was starting to get more intense inside the car, so he took a deep breath and stepped out, the small bit of wind barely doing anything to help cool him down. He unbuttoned his jacket and walked to the bar, pulling open the double doors and walking through them. Pangs of regret shot through him as he looked around at the place he thought of as home. He had cursed John Winchester a million times since he died, angry that not only did his father lose his life, but he caused Dean to as well. This was the ultimate punishment, and maybe he deserved it for all he had done. 

"Dean?"

He was snapped out of his thoughts by that oh-so-familiar voice. He turned around and saw Ellen standing there, a white towel in her hands and a surprised look on her face. All he could do was stare blankly at her for a moment, not quite knowing what to do or what to say. He hadn't exactly left the job in the best way. In the end, she chose for the both of them, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around him, the towel dropping to the floor, forgotten for the time being. 

"Damn. I missed you, kid." 

He smiled into her shoulder, trying to keep his tears at bay. "I missed you too, Ellen."

When she pulled away, he could see that she was also struggling not to cry. "Where the hell have you been?"

He felt like a 12-year-old child again, back when she had caught him sneaking into the house at 3 am one fall evening. "I thought that maybe you didn't want to see me... after what I did." He gestured to the mirrors above the bar, which had still not been replaced after he smashed them to pieces. 

She shook her head. "Dean, you were pissed off, and rightly so. Your bastard of a father had just died, and he put it in his will that _you_ were supposed to take over the church. He made you give up everything, just like he did when he was alive."

He sighed, walking over to sit at one of the tables. She followed suit, sliding into a chair in front of him. "Yeah, well. I'm doing it now. At least, I'm trying to." 

"What happened?"

"No one showed up yesterday to choir practice. I don't know if they didn't get the message, or they think I'm gonna fail, or what."

She put a hand over his. "Don't talk like that, son. You will do an amazing job, and you're going to make your momma proud. Besides, that's just choir practice. The real show is on Sunday."

He looked up at her, feeling the emotions catch in his throat. "I don't want to do this, Ellen. I never wanted any of this."

"You can always call it quits, Dean. You know that, right?" Her brow furrowed in concern. 

He laughed bitterly. "Why? So my old man can be all smug as fuck that I failed something yet again?"

"John's dead. He ain't never coming back. You don't have to prove anything to anyone but yourself."

He nodded, resting his elbows on the table. "Then why do I feel like people are just waiting for me to fail?"

"Your daddy is still stuck in your head, kid. All those years of him telling you that you were good for nothin'... Maybe you started to believe it." Ellen put a hand to his cheek. "I don't care if you're a preacher or a bartender. Me and Bobby'll always love you the same. So will Jo."

He smiled, looking down at his hands. "Thank you. I don't know if I ever told you that before. You guys were there for me and Sammy for as long as I can remember. I don't know if we could have survived without you."

Ellen ruffled his hair. "Don't get all soft on me now, Dean. You know we had to be there. Your mom was my friend, and I promised her a long time ago that I'd watch out for you boys."

"How come Jo didn't come home for the summer?"

Ellen waved a hand. "You know her. She's always looking for the next adventure." A flicker of worry crossed her face. "Speaking of which, I need to give that girl a call. I didn't hear from her this morning like I usually do."

"I'm sure she's fine. She's probably just sleeping off a hangover."

"Dean Winchester!"

Dean quickly got to his feet, putting his hands up in mock defeat. "Sheesh. Calm down, mama bear. I was just kidding." He smirked and slid out of her range as she batted at him. "I need to head to the church. I have some last minute things to do before Sunday."

"Bobby and I will be there bright and early," Ellen said, standing up and hugging him once more. "You know we ain't church goin' folk but we want to show our support."

Dean felt that pesky emotion rise in his chest again and he turned away. "Thanks, Ellen. I mean it."

"Get out of here, kid. Say hi to Sam for me, will ya? He never calls anymore, either."

Dean walked back to his car feeling better about Sunday. He would do a service, just as he planned, and if no one came then he would simply walk away and go back to his old life. Then no one could say he never tried. Not even John Winchester.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. College work has been kicking my ass.

It was Saturday now, an entire 24 hours since the **Very**   **Bad Fucking Idea,** aka dinner with his brother and girlfriend.

Sam knew from the get-go that Dean would be less than thrilled at his choice in love interest, but he didn't expect him to go storming off. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized it couldn't just be about Ruby and her witchcraft. There was a deeper issue prompting Dean to be even more short tempered than usual, one that even Sam could understand.

When their dad died, Dean had called him at 3 am that morning crying - not to mourn the loss of John, but for what was going to come next. To say that Sam was pissed about what John had put in the will was an understatement. He and his father never got along on their _best_ day, but taking away Dean's life was low, even for him.

Sure, legally no one could _make_ Dean become the new preacher, but by leaving the church to him and putting a clause in his will that prevented anyone from selling it, that's essentially what happened anyway. If Dean didn't follow in their father's footsteps, then he would rack up so much debt that he would drown in it. Sam had to admire his brother for giving it an actual chance, and not just jumping in his Impala and hauling ass out of town. It's what Sam would have done, had he been in Dean's shoes. The guy had balls. 

Sam was doing a routine patrol through the neighborhood around 10 a.m. It was usually slow around this time, as most people were still in bed, sleeping off hangovers from the night before. The town was small, and The Roadhouse was pretty much the only exciting place to go in town. The booze made Purgatory, Kansas actually seem exciting, instead of making you want to jump off the nearest cliff. People were seriously crazy here. Sam often wondered if there was something in the water. In his jailhouse there were _five_ people locked up, one of which was dressed like a clown - much to his chagrin. He fucking _hated_ clowns. He wouldn't be surprised if Zachariah had done it on purpose. Asshole. 

Sam enjoyed this time of day. It was peaceful. It was quiet. 

But now, there was another asshole trying to ruin it- one in a blue Mustang speeding in front of him with the top down, and Asia's "Heat of the Moment" blaring from the speakers. So much for his nice, quiet morning. He rolled his eyes and flipped on the siren, tempted to arrest this joker just on principle alone for that horrible song. He parked behind the car on the shoulder and stepped out, straightening his hat and pulling out his ticket book. As he approached, he realized he didn't recognize the car, or the man sitting inside it. Strangers didn't often come through this place, since it was in the middle of nowhere. You had to literally be looking for it to even find it. He wondered what this man was doing here now.

The man in the Mustang was a shorter guy, with sandy brown hair and eyes that appeared almost golden in the sunlight. He wore a smirk on his face as he slung an arm on the door, offering Sam his license and registration with his other hand. 

"Here ya go, big guy."

Sam paused for a moment. "Do you get pulled over a lot?" If this guy was trouble, he'd need to keep a watchful eye on him. 

"Nope. I just assumed this is what you were gonna ask me for."

"Thank you, Sir." Sam took the offered items and glanced down at them. "Mr... Gabriel Novak. Do you know how fast you were going?"

The man shrugged. "That depends. How long were you following me?"

Sam frowned, despite the fact a small part of him wanted to smile at the joke. He wasn't having the best week, and he sure could use the humor. Still, he had to remain professional. "Sir, you were going 75 in a 45 zone." He knew how stupid it was, considering he and Gabriel were the only ones on the road for miles, but the law was the law. 

Gabriel tapped his fingers on the door. "Damn. Was I really? Sorry about that, dude." The man was acting so aloof about the whole situation, as if being pulled over was a completely normal occurrence for him. 

"My name is Sheriff Sam Winchester."

Gabriel grinned at him. "Well, _Sheriff._  Sorry to cause such an inconvenience. Ill try to be careful next time. Pinky swear."

"Was there some kind of emergency?" Sam continued, trying to stay with the task at hand. "Is that why you were speeding?" He hated giving out tickets, and perhaps there was a plausible excuse that could warrant a free pass. 

The other man shook his head. "Nope. I was just in a hurry. Mr. Winchester. I just moved to town, and I bought that old bakery on the corner of 8th and - "

"Grannies Cakes and Bakes?"

"That's the one. Anyway, so I finally got my shipment of supplies and I was eager to get started." Now Gabriel looked a bit sheepish. "Stupid, huh?"

Sam gave a sigh, glancing at the boxes of fondant and cupcake wrappers in the passenger seat and handing the man's credentials back to him. "No, Sir, but it could be dangerous if you're not careful. It's good to find things to be excited about. Life is too hard without it."

"My my. Aren't you the handsome philosopher?" Gabriel winked at him.

Sam just stared back in surprise. Was... was this stranger flirting with him? Surely not. He was just trying to get out of the ticket. Not that Sam was interested, of course. He had Ruby. He was happy. He forced a smile on his face that he was sure looked completely fake. "Thank you for the compliment. Look, I'm going to let you go with a warning. But don't let it happen again, okay?"

"Hey, thanks, Sheriff!" Gabriel saluted him. "I appreciate it. Like I said, I swear I'll be careful next time."

Sam nodded, sliding his ticket book into his coat pocket. "So you're new to town, huh? Where did you move from?"

"New York. Thought small town living would be a nice change of pace. Plus, my brother came here, so I said 'fuck it', sold my apartment and just drove. Sometimes that's what you gotta do, Sheriff. Just get in the car and escape."

It was something Sam often wished he could do, himself. Sure, he had his brother, and Ellen and Bobby. Even Jo. But this town hadn't felt like home since his mother died. Sometimes he wondered if a fresh start would help him and Dean, but he had no clue where they would even go. They had family in Lawrence last he heard - maybe they could head there.

"Sheriff?"

He was snapped back to the present by the man's voice and his concerned gaze. "Yes. Sorry, I was just thinking about what you said. I bet this town is a complete culture shock in comparison to New York."

Gabriel chuckled. "You can say that again. Hey, if you don't mind I really need to get going. The fondant is gonna melt in this fucking heat. I don't know how you people stand it."

"Well, you're one of those people now, Mr. Novak," Sam replied, stepping away from the car. "But yes, you're free to go."

"Thanks, Sheriff. And by the way, once I've gotten officially opened, maybe you should come by some time. I make the most amazing apple pie. It's almost heavenly."

Sam laughed a little, immediately thinking of Dean. "Pie is more my brother's thing, but I'll make sure to check it out. Drive safely, Mr. Novak."

Gabriel honked his horn and sped off, the dust billowing behind his car and causing Sam to cough behind his fist. The man seemed nice enough, but he would watch him just the same. He adjusted his hat and walked to his cruiser, just in time for a pink Charger to go speeding by down the road.

"Dammit, Bela," he said, sliding into the driver's seat. 

It was gonna be another long day. 


End file.
